Driving Me Crazy
by DipityDip
Summary: Kurt Hummel has a new employer, a businessman with exceptional taste, but will it be a match made in heaven or will they drive eachother crazy?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Love at first sight.

Well, not first sight; Second sight. No, third sight actually. Love at third sight. And not love, but lust. Definitely lust. Lust at third sight, then.

Kurt inwardly rolled his eyes at himself and his overzealous imagination. He had to remind himself that he didn't believe in fanciful, unrealistic notions like falling in love with someone from nothing other than a pleasing collection of physical attributes. He knew better than that, and he had the bruised and battered heart to prove it. He'd watched too many of those ridiculous romantic comedies that always left him feeling maudlin and ill-content, and yet he still seemed unable to resist them and their impossible fairy tale endings. Deep down he supposed he was a hopeless romantic and always would be.

Swallowing against the dryness in his mouth, he continued to watch as Blaine Anderson, businessman extraordinaire, descended thefront steps of the lavish two-story house and headed with brisk, confident strides towards where Kurt waited at the open rear door of the gleaming, silver Mercedes-Benz.

Dark-haired and dressed in an immaculately tailored charcoal-grey pinstripe suit paired with a stormy purple shirt and black silk tie, the man was breathtaking, right down to the tips of his shining black leather shoes. His chocolate brown hair was artfully arranged in a style of casual curled disarray, suggesting a hint of mischief and rebelliousness in contrast to the otherwise flawless businessman persona. A sleek black leather briefcase was held at his side as he spoke in hushed, urgent tones into what was undoubtedly the latest model of phone. The movement of full, seductive lips allowed Kurt to catch a glimpse of an impressive set of perfect, whiter-than-white teeth.

However, it was the rest of the man's classically handsome face that captivated his attention. Slightly stubbled, tanned skin complimented intelligent and blazing Amber eyes completing the almost too perfect package. Those eyes alone could almost be Kurt's undoing.

Everything about the mans appearance screamed success and self-assuredness. At thirty years of age, only three years older than Kurt, Blaine Anderson was indisputably in his prime and knew how to look his best. This was a man who knew how to use the gifts bestowed upon him by nature to maximum, even devastating, effect.

Liking to be prepared for any given situation, Kurt had done his homework and learnt everything he could about his new employer. Anderson was a self-made man, having begun in the financial markets after completing a business and finance degree at an English university. The man apparently had the proverbial Midas touch, whether through skill or luck, or a combination of both, and after only a few short years he had moved back to New York, started his own managed fund company and was soon running a sizeable investment portfolio. Since then he'd been steadily increasing his business interests and amassed a personal fortune in the process. Anderson continued to maintain a home in London, and Kurt expected some trips over the pond would be a part of his new job. Blaine had been born in Columbus Ohio, he has an older brother, and his parents were retired and now living in Cape Cod. That was pretty much the extent of what Kurt had been able to find out about his new employers background and private life.

The fact that Kurt was attracted to confident and experienced older men only served to further heighten Anderson's appeal, and he began to wonder if he'd made a mistake in accepting this new position. Being in the presence of this unattainable example of masculine beauty six days a week could be less of a blessing and more of a curse. Yet, he'd be lying if he said the man hadn't intrigued him from the first time he'd laid eyes on him, and it was partly that fascination that had been his reason for accepting the position. He enjoyed being a chauffeur, but he didn't actually need the job at the moment and could have devoted his time to other endeavours instead.

Squaring his shoulders and resisting the urge to straighten his tie and smooth down the lapels of his tailored suit, Kurt kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back, holding his black cap out of sight. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he held his features in a mask of polite impassivity, hoping his errant thoughts didn't betray him. Fortunately, the expensive vehicle at his side and the surroundings of the Anderson estate didn't faze him in the least. Located in White Plains, the home was undeniably impressive with its gated entrance, cobbled semi-circular driveway and manicured gardens, the brown brick house itself imposing with its pillared entrance and tall, white-trimmed windows. Having been in the employ of one of New Yorks richest men for the better part of five years, Kurt was used to the trappings of the very wealthy. Even the enormous garage at the rear of the house containing Anderson's collection of exotic cars hadn't particularly daunted or surprised him. Taking care of the collection on behalf of its owner really wasn't going to be much of a chore. If he could only manage to achieve a similar level of insouciant indifference to the man himself...

His new employer slipped his phone into the breast pocket of his jacket and turned his attention towards Kurt, a frown creasing his forehead as he came to a stop beside the beckoning car door.

Trying not to flinch under the man's intent gaze and standing a little straighter, Kurt offered up perfect posture and a small, polite smile. "Good morning, Sir."

Blaine's frown didn't falter. "You're my new chauffeur?" he asked.

"Yes, that's right." Kurt gave a courteous tip of his head. "Hummel, Sir. Kurt Hummel."

"How old are you?" Blaine asked, his curt tone suggesting he wasn't used to being denied answers.

Kurt was tempted to tell the man to mind his own damn business, but he maintained the polite countenance that he had developed to perfection. He'd long accepted that his boyish features made him look a number of years younger than his actual age. He supposed that at some point it would be something he was grateful for, and if he reached the ripe old age of forty and still looked only thirty, he'd then consider it a definite plus. Regardless, Blaine could easily find out his age from his employment records, so it was pointless not to answer honestly.

"Twenty seven, Sir" he replied in an even tone.

Blaine's features took on an expression of mild surprise, but he continued to scrutinise Kurt. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

Unsurprised that Blaine didn't remember their previous two encounters, such as they were, Kurt nodded. "You might have noticed me at Henry Parker's funeral. I was Mr. Parker's chauffeur." Given Blaine's apparent doubts about him, he added as an afterthought, "For almost five years." He cleared his throat before further adding, "You also saw me once at Mr. Parker's home."

"Oh. Yes, right." Blaine had the grace to look mildly sheepish before regaining his composure. "Henry was a good man."

"He was, Sir," Kurt agreed, his throat tightening with the words. "A very good man."

Blaine, of course, probably had no idea of what Kurt's former employer had meant to him, the elderly man having been akin to a surrogate grandfather to Kurt in many ways. When Henry had been bedridden by illness, and Kurt's services as chauffeur no longer required, he'd spent his days in those final three months at Henry's bedside, reading to him and keeping him company. Henry had passed away at the end of June, just over two months ago, finally succumbing to a prolonged battle with cancer. Kurt had been with him at the end, holding the man's frail hand in his own, and he continued to feel the loss of his former employer deeply. Henry had been a cantankerous and grumpy man all the time Kurt had known him, but he'd also had an inquisitive and sharp mind, a dry sense of humour, and beneath the brusque exterior had been a kind and compassionate man. He'd also shown astonishing generosity to the people he valued in his life, as Kurt could attest to personally.

Discomforted by the swell of emotion and Blaine's searching gaze, Kurt lowered his eyes to the floor. "Shall we go, Sir? To your offices in the city?" Forcing himself to meet the other man's eyes again, he added, "Miss Fabray provided me with your itinerary for the week."

Quinn Fabray was Blaine's assistant who had met Kurt at the house the day before to show him around and give him access to the garage and the house itself, of which Kurt was permitted to enter via the service entrance at the back and use the facilities offered by the kitchen and downstairs bathroom. Blaine had been on a business trip to London until the evening before, which was why Kurt was only now meeting him properly.

Like many wealthy people, Blaine Anderson employed a small team to deal with the mundane details of his life, although Blaine's team was modest. In addition to Quinn, and now Kurt, there was a household cleaning crew that came in one day a week and a gardening contractor who took care of the grounds. In addition to driving Blaine around and taking care of his cars, Kurt's duties included dropping off and picking up laundry and dry cleaning, accepting food deliveries, and any other errands Blaine decided to bestow upon him. Kurt had immediately liked the quiet and efficient Quinn, who had explained that while she was primarily Blaine's assistant in business matters she also looked after his household needs when required, such as finding Blaine a new chauffeur. She'd seemed relieved by Kurt's arrival, Blaine having been without a chauffeur for several weeks since the departure of his previous man. Quinn had explained that Blaine valued his privacy, which explained the lack of any other full-time staff despite the substantial size of the house.

As far as he knew, Blaine didn't have a partner or significant other, and he thought Blaine must be rather lonely rattling around in such a big house on his own. Personally, he preferred the cosy comfort of his modestly sized two-bedroom apartment in Scarsdale, he supposed wealthy men like Blaine had to spend their money on something, and from his research he knew that Blaine was a generous philanthropist. Blaine had likely worked hard to amass his riches, and Kurt didn't begrudge the man whatever excesses he chose to indulge in. He just wasn't sure he saw the point if there wasn't anyone to share it with. Money could solve a great many problems and make life considerably easier, but it couldn't guarantee happiness. He wondered if someone like Blaine Anderson was genuinely happy. He doubted it, unless the man was so superficial that the only things he cared about was wealth and success.

Blaine nodded. "Good. Did Quinn explain your duties?"

"Yes, Sir," Kurt replied.

Blaine swung his briefcase into the car. "Okay, well, if you have any questions, just let me know." He paused as he stepped into the back seat, a glint of amusement in those shrewd, captivating amber eyes. "And, Hummel? There's no need to call me Sir. Blaine is fine."

Kurt carefully weighed his words before responding. He decided that he needed to keep things as businesslike as possible with his obscenely attractive new boss, who was even more stunning up close, much to Kurt's chagrin. He also happened to wear aftershave which smelled amazing.

"If it's all the same to you, I prefer to keep things on a formal basis." He offered Blaine an apologetic smile. "It's, uh... it's what I'm used to."

A flicker of irritation passed over Blaine's features, but he shrugged and climbed into the car. "Suit yourself."

Holding back a grimace at his first misstep, Kurt gently closed the door and tugged on his cap. He prided himself on his efficiency, competence and professional etiquette, and he hated to get on an employer's bad side at any time, especially within the first few minutes of the very first day.

As he settled into the driver's seat and turned on the car's ignition, he glanced in the rear-view mirror to see that Blaine had extracted a slim laptop from his briefcase. His head was lowered, his gaze fixed on the screen, his new chauffeur apparently already forgotten.

Stifling a sigh, Kurt slipped the car into gear and navigated around the curved driveway, out through the electric wrought iron gates, into the quiet street, and headed towards Manhattan.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**_

 _ **Well hi all, thank you so much for the follows and favourites. I should let you know this story is completely written and I'm just fine tuning the chapters before I post them. I'm aiming for two chapters a week depending on the response it gets. Please review as it lets me know if I should write more or maybe not. Thank you for reading!**_

Driving Me Crazy – Chapter 2

Kurt unlocked the back doors of the Anderson house and made his way past the laundry and utility room through to the kitchen, rubbing his hands together to warm them from the morning chill that had made him reluctant to get out of bed at all.

Once inside he paused and listened for any sign of life, but was greeted only by silence. The large kitchen was suitably luxurious with its black granite worktops, glossy white cabinetry and expensive stainless steel appliances. A vast island dominated the space, and a round glass-topped table surrounded by leather upholstered chairs was positioned by a trio of tall windows. Combined with a set of French doors, they offered an unobstructed view of the wide stone-paved terrace and the neatly manicured gardens beyond.

The sparse furnishings gave the space a sterile, almost uninhabited feel, and from the little he'd seen so far, he suspected this extended throughout the rest of the house. He supposed Blaine didn't do much in the way of cooking or food preparation, and he probably didn't entertain visitors on a regular basis. As much as Kurt appreciated tidiness and keeping everything in its proper place, even he found the stark, minimalist environment a little disconcerting. He made straight for the coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen, and tentatively pressed buttons and turned handles until the aroma of roast coffee started to emerge.

He'd suffered a restless night, being somewhat prone to bouts of insomnia, and the cup of coffee he'd had with his toast had barely dragged him into the land of the living. Since Blaine seemed to be running late, he'd decided to try out his boss' machine rather than wait until later. Grateful he'd managed to operate the machine he hoped a second shot of caffeine would overcome his lethargy.

It was Thursday morning and the fourth day of his tenure as Blaine Anderson's new chauffeur. Blaine had mostly ignored him since the first morning, speaking to him only when necessary, but otherwise the job had been unremarkable thus far. He'd driven Blaine to and from the office each day, ferried him to various appointments around the city, and picked him up the previous evening after a business dinner. The job wasn't taxing and gave him a fair bit of downtime, allowing him to run personal errands and otherwise amuse himself while he waited until he was needed again. He didn't know if Blaine's aloofness was his normal behaviour, if he was preoccupied with business matters, or if Blaine just didn't like him very much. He had no doubt that Blaine could turn on the charm when he chose to – the man certainly wasn't lacking in looks, confidence or charisma– but perhaps that didn't extend to the hired help. Blaine continued to address him by his surname, possibly in petty retaliation for Kurt's use of the 'Sir' honorific. He supposed it was silly to address a man only three years his senior so formally, but he tended to be a bit old-fashioned, and he believed in showing respect to one's elders and employers. He took pride in his etiquette and professionalism. He may have come from a poor, working-class family, but that didn't mean he was incapable of showing politeness and respect and behaving in a gentlemanly manner. It was incumbent on a well-trained chauffeur to conduct himself with detachment and not draw undue attention in the performance of his duties.

Unfortunately, and much to his annoyance, Blaine's taciturn behaviour bothered him more than he cared to admit. He'd dealt with his fair share of ill-tempered employers in the past, but for some reason he couldn't quantify, he wanted Blaine to like him. The fact that he felt an intense attraction to the man had nothing to do with it. The unfamiliar coffee machine proved no match for him, and he was soon settled at the table and sipping gratefully at the dark, aromatic brew. Staring out of the windows at the grey, overcast morning, he was lost in his thoughts when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He scrambled to his feet as Blaine entered the room, almost spilling coffee into his lap in the process.

"Good morning, Sir." Kurt arranged his features into his usual polite smile of greeting. "I... uh... I made myself a cup of coffee while I was waiting. I hope that's all right?" Blaine looked momentarily startled to see him, but then waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, of course." He sighed and slumped down into the chair across from where Kurt was standing. Kurt took a moment to take in the man's appearance. Blaine was dressed in dark grey suit trousers and a pale mauve shirt, but he wasn't wearing a tie or jacket. Instead, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows, the top two buttons at his neck unfastened, the shirt's tailored fit highlighting Blaine's toned shoulders, compact frame, and slim but taught waist. Dragging his gaze away from Blaine's nicely toned forearms, Kurt looked at the other man's eyes. He noted the weariness in their amber depths, accompanied by tell-tale dark circles underneath. Blaine's hair was in disarray, as if he'd been running his hands through it in frustration. "Would you like a cup?" Kurt offered. Blaine nodded, rolling his shoulders and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Sure. Black, no sugar." Kurt retrieved a second black cup from one of the overhead cupboards and prepared Blaine's coffee. He carried it across to the table and set it down in front of the other man. "Careful, Sir, it's hot."

Stepping back, he stood uncertainly for a moment, not sure what to do with himself. Deciding to take a chance that his presence wasn't unwelcome, he eased himself back into his chair and resumed drinking his coffee. Blaine remained silent, just staring down at the steaming mug in front of him.

"Is everything all right?" Kurt asked cautiously. Blaine looked up, giving him a flicker of a weak smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm working on a couple of big deals and didn't get much sleep." Kurt nodded sympathetically. He considered what he'd seen earlier of Blaine's sparse pantry and cupboards. "I could get you some breakfast," he suggested, figuring he could at least manage to produce a bowl of cereal. Blaine shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll get something at the office." Another hint of a smile passed over his lips. "Quinn's always feeding me. I'm sure she's convinced I'll starve otherwise." He laughed humourlessly. "She's probably right." He picked up his mug and took a sip, his eyes became almost comically wide, and he took another longer drink. "This is fantastic."

Inordinately pleased by Blaine's reaction, Kurt watched as the man took another taste. Blaine let out an appreciative moan that sent a shot of adrenaline racing down Kurt's spine that settled and coiled low in his stomach. He swallowed down a gulp of his own coffee, willing his body to get control of itself. "Glad you like it, Sir. It's like your own peronal Starbucks."

"I don't use it very often." Blaine shrugged. "I mostly drink instant when I'm here by myself." Kurt almost failed to suppress a surprised expression. "Instant?" Blaine smirked, apparently amused by the look of disgust Kurt knew had to be written all over his face. "I take it you're not a fan?" Kurt shuddered. "Um… it's… yeah… no..." Blaine swallowed another mouthful. "Well, after tasting this, I can see why. There's really no comparison."

Kurt found himself studying the sensual movement of Blaine's Adam's apple as his boss continued to drink. His gaze moved down to the base of Blaine's throat and the tantalising glimpse of smooth skin displayed by his open collar. He wondered what it would be like to delve his tongue into that hollow, licking salty sweat from heated flesh before trailing his mouth back up to Blaine's full lips...

"Hummel, are you okay?" Kurt blinked. Blaine had lowered his coffee mug and was staring at him. Feeling a rush of heat rising in his cheeks, he hoped he was imagining the knowing, almost smug look Blaine was giving him. He cleared his throat. "Sorry…" He gave Blaine a sheepish smile. "I didn't sleep very well last night either. Um... you were saying?" Unable to hold Blaine's scrutiny, he lowered his gaze, settling his attention on where Blaine's hands were clasped around the coffee cup. His hands were tanned, masculine and well-manicured – strong, capable hands befitting their owner. Which lead him to imagine how it might feel to have one of those hands wrapped around...

Mortified by his treacherous thoughts, Kurt gave himself a sharp mental slap and forced his attention back to Blaine's face, which seemed to be the safest option at the moment. He didn't know why Blaine was affecting him like this. Admittedly, his libido had been dormant since his breakup with John, then there had been the grief over Henry's passing and the emotional toll of the months leading up to it. He'd been unhappy and depressed for a while now, with nothing but the companionship of his right hand for far too long. This inappropriate attraction to Blaine had reignited a spark in him, and all of a sudden his sex drive seemed to be back with a vengeance. Blaine was making him feel like a libidinous, lust-crazed teenager, and he didn't dare consider what Blaine must be thinking of his unprofessional behaviour. But Blaine's expression cleared, and he looked unperturbed. "Tell me something about yourself, Hummel." Kurt was startled by the non-sequitur. "There's nothing really to tell, Sir." He shrugged. "I'm not very interesting."

Blaine frowned. "I'm sure that's not true. You seem like a man of..." He paused as if searching for the right phrase. "Hidden depths?" he finished with a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. Kurt felt his eyebrows lift with a mixture of surprise and amusement. Apparently Blaine wasn't above turning on the charm with the hired help after all. When he didn't reply, Blaine's expression turned thoughtful. "You don't wear a wedding ring, so I assume you're not married? Anyone special if your life? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Cat?" Kurt swallowed the last mouthful of his coffee and considered his response, unsure whether Blaine was deliberately fishing for details about his sexuality or merely trying to make small talk. Not that he had anything to hide, and he was pretty sure Blaine had already realised he was gay, it was an assumption most people made. He shook his head. "Boyfriend. I mean if there was someone. But there isn't. Not for a while now." He decided not to elaborate, not wanting to divulge the details of his hapless love life to his new boss. Figuring turnabout was fair play, however, he gave Blaine a curious look. "And you?"

Blaine lowered his gaze to the table, his fingers idly toying with his coffee cup. "No, there's no one." He glanced up at Kurt, his lips curving into what was a transparently forced smile. "Work takes up most of my time, and I'm not the easiest of people to be with."

Kurt felt a stab of sympathy, the sadness in Blaine's voice affecting him more than he would have expected. He shrugged. "Maybe you just haven't found someone who knows how to handle you."

The words were out of his mouth before he'd realised how inappropriate they must have sounded. He was about to apologise, but Blaine surprised him by responding with a bark of laughter, his expressive eyes suddenly alight with humour and crinkling in amusement.

"Maybe you're right," Blaine replied after he'd stopped laughing, still looking amused. It was the first time Kurt had heard Blaine laugh, and he liked the sound. More than liked it, in fact. For just a moment, Blaine's handsome face had come to life and was even more breathtaking. Although dismayed that he now found the man more appealing than before, Kurt felt some of his earlier tension begin to ease. It seemed possible that they might get along all right after all. They held each other's gaze for a moment, then Blaine stood up and collected both of their empty cups.

"Thanks for the coffee." He smiled down at Kurt, unleashing his dazzling eyes to the max. Blaine carried their mugs over to the sink, rinsed them, then placed them in the dishwasher. He admonished himself when he realised he was once again admiring the way Blaine's clothes accentuated what was without doubt a magnificent physique. Blaine turned back towards him. "I need you to do a laundry and dry cleaning run today. Come upstairs and I'll show you what needs doing and where to put things when you bring them back." Kurt nodded. "Of course, Sir."

He followed Blaine from the kitchen and into the wide hallway that ran the length of the house. The dark hardwood flooring in the kitchen continued throughout, contrasting pleasantly with the crisp, albeit rather stark, white walls. Although not wanting to seem overly curious, Kurt tried to take in as much of his surroundings as possible. Passing the downstairs bathroom, he spotted what appeared to be Blaine's home office. On the other side was a home cinema room, along with an empty room at the rear which was probably meant to be a secondary living area, also with French doors leading outside. As they reached the sweeping staircase leading upwards from the foyer, he saw a large living room to the left of the front entrance and a formal dining room on the right. The dining room was empty except for a long dining table, but the living room, while still fairly sparse, had a more lived in appearance, with a large L-shaped sofa, a couple of matching armchairs, coffee table, bookshelves and an entertainment unit with a massive flat-screen television. He supposed this was the main room that Blaine used along with his office.

Blaine lead him up the wide staircase and down the upstairs hallway. From what Kurt could tell, there were a substantial number of bedrooms, another informal living room, a walk in linen closet and two more bathrooms. As they reached the end of the hallway, he saw a room that had been transformed into a well-equipped home gym. He hurried past, his mind betraying him as it conjured up lurid images of a shirtless, sweaty Blaine in the midst of a vigorous workout.

The master bedroom took up the back part of the upper floor, its windows looking out over the rear of the property. Once again the room was sparsely furnished, the king-size bed being the dominant feature, but even it looked slightly lost in the spacious room. A pair of doors to the left led to an en-suite bathroom and a dressing room. Like the downstairs living room, the practical hardwood flooring gave way to plush, light-coloured carpet. He followed Blaine into the dressing room with its wall-to-wall wardrobes, drawers and storage cubbies. Blaine explained what he expected him to do on a weekly basis, showing him where to find the clothes waiting to be laundered and dry cleaned, and where to hang and put away the clothes on their return. Looking around at Blaine's vast collection of the finest designer shirts, suits, ties and shoes, Kurt couldn't help being awestruck and a more than a little envious. Blaine had excellent taste and clearly spared no expense on his clothing.

"Feel free to use my dry cleaning account for your own things as well," Blaine concluded. Kurt gave him an appreciative smile. "Thank you. That's very generous."

"No problem." Blaine glanced around and exhaled a weary-sounding sigh. "I need to get to the office. Just give me a couple of minutes and I'll be ready. I'll meet you down at the car." Kurt nodded and held Blaines gaze for just a second, then collected the suits for cleaning along with Blaine's laundry bag, heading to the door. He stopped by the doorway and looked back.

"I'll be waiting, Sir."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well wow, thank you for all the follows and favourites and for the reviews too. Here's chapter three and a little more focus on these two. As always please review, it makes me smile!

Chapter Three 

It was Friday night and almost nine pm when Kurt stopped the car at the rear of Stadium House, the location of the Anderson Financial Group. From his research he knew that Blaine's company occupied an entire upper floor of the seventeen-storey office tower in central Manhattan. The white and blue clad building was the second tallest in the city and dwarfed the surrounding structures. It was awash with light, the circular base of its rooftop spire a glowing white ring and a striking focal point of Manhattans night-time skyline. As per their routine, Blaine had sent a text message ten minutes earlier, indicating he was almost ready to leave. Throughout the week, Blaine had shown more consideration than Kurt had expected, giving him advance notice if he planned to work late at the office. So Kurt had been parked nearby, ready and waiting, and it had taken only a matter of minutes to reach Blaine's offices. Anticipating Blaine's appearance at any moment, he climbed out of the car and moved around to the rear passenger door. After giving his long limbs a quick stretch, he put on his cap and buttoned his suit jacket. With several deft and efficient movements, he ensured his appearance was in order and lastly adjusted the knot of his tie.

It had been a strange week, albeit a routine and uneventful one. He was still trying to decide what to make of his new employer, the man occupying his thoughts far too often, much to his consternation. Blaine Anderson wasn't the first good-looking man to capture his attention, not by a long stretch, but the man intrigued him and had rapidly become the focus of some intense and somewhat heated fantasies. It was ridiculous and unhealthy, and he reminded himself – as he'd been doing all week – of his vow not to get involved again with anyone who wasn't a candidate for a serious relationship. Blaine might be as close to physical perfection as he could imagine, but the man was his employer and therefore strictly off limits. Besides, it was absurd to think that Blaine would ever be interested in him. He was just an ordinary guy, not unattractive, at least so he'd been told, but he wasn't anything special either. He was the hired help and a world apart from the likes of Blaine Anderson in almost every conceivable way. No, Blaine could never be anything more than a fantasy.

Unfortunately, no amount of rationalisation could stop the little flutter in his chest as Blaine appeared and made his way towards where Kurt waited by the open car door. Like the morning before, Blaine look tired and unhappy. He offered little more than a gruff acknowledgement before tossing his briefcase into the car and climbing in after it, and Kurt was glad that he'd settled on a deferential smile in favour of a verbal greeting.

Settling back into the car and fastening his seatbelt, Kurt stole a glance over his shoulder. Blaine had removed his tie and opened his shirt collar. He was slumped in his seat, head back and eyes closed and his brow furrowed. "Sir, um… are you ok?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Blaine gave a heavy sigh and slowly opened his eyes. "Yeah, fine. It's been a stupid week, that's all." Kurt suspected there was more to it, but he nodded anyway and started the car. "Traffic's a bit heavy, but just relax and I'll have you home shortly."

"No, I don't want to go home." Blaine sat up in his seat and leaned forward. "There's a club not far from here. Dalton. Take me there, Hummel. It's over near..." Kurt tensed in his seat, caught off guard by Blaine's request. "I know it, Sir," he interjected, the words coming out more tersely than he'd intended. He'd been to the well-known gay club a number of times before, although not recently. As far as places like that went it was fine, and he'd enjoyed a couple of casual hookups there in the past. It was a good place to lose yourself with the thumping, frenetic music, plentiful supply of over-priced alcohol and sea of attractive men. But the idea of Blaine being in a place like that, where almost anything he might desire was on offer, produced an unpleasant, churning sensation in Kurt's stomach. He wondered why Blaine, with his film-star good looks, wealth and lavish home, would resort to a place like that and hadn't found someone to settle down with. There had to be other attractive workaholic professionals in Manhattan who would be a good match for Blaine and able to satisfy his needs. Not that he could talk, although in his case it was perhaps less from a want of trying. He just had the unfortunate habit of falling for men who turned out not to be interested in sharing anything more than an occasional bed. Blaine didn't seem to notice his abruptness. "Right. Yeah, of course you do."

They made the journey in silence, Blaine seemingly lost in his thoughts as he stared out at the brightly-lit city. Meanwhile, Kurt did his best to concentrate on his driving, not wanting to think about why Blaine going to a club like Dalton bothered him so much.

Ten minutes later, he pulled up opposite the club, its front exterior inconspicuous, painted in black and without any visible windows. Above the heavy entrance door was its sole external feature – a red neon sign in the shape of a large letter 'D'. Despite the early hour, the muffled thump of dance music could be heard from outside.

Kurt put the car into park and met Blaine's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Sir? What time should I return and collect you?"

Blaine unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out. "Thanks, but no need. I'll get a taxi home. Just take the car back to the house and put my briefcase in my office if you don't mind." Kurt frowned. While he didn't love the thought of a drunk and handsy Blaine and some random guy making out in the back of the car, it was nonetheless his responsibility to transport Blaine and anyone accompanying him to wherever they wanted to go. He didn't like the idea of a stranger, whether they were a taxi driver or anyone else, doing his job for him.

He lowered his window and looked up at Blaine. "Are you sure you don't want me to come back later, Sir? It's no trouble." Blaine granted him a glimmer of a smile. "I'm sure. Go on home, Hummel. Have a good night." Kurt nodded to himself resignedly, "Sure, you too Sir." Blaine, however, had already started walking away, and Kurt watched as he crossed the street and made his way inside. Breathing out a frustrated sigh, Kurt put the car into gear and left the club behind.

* * *

Kurt was back at Blaine's house early the following morning, having endured another restless night. Being Saturday, Blaine didn't have any appointments or specific need for his services, at least as far as he was aware, but his employment agreement called for him to be available six days a week unless informed otherwise.

After parking his modest Audi in the space beside Blaine's garage, he went inside and turned off the security system, changed from his suit into the t-shirt and pair of well-worn jeans he'd brought with him, then set to work washing and detailing the Mercedes. He'd been pleased to discover earlier in the week that the garage was well-stocked with an extensive collection of car maintenance products, equipment and cleaning supplies, suggesting his predecessor had been as diligent about caring for his employer's vehicles as he was. He'd just finished wiping the car dry and was about to move it back into the garage before applying a coat of wax and starting on the interior. Hearing the mechanical sound of the front gates, he looked down the driveway and saw a taxi enter the property and swing around to park in front of the house. The sick feeling from the previously evening returned, and after a moment of indecision, his curiosity got the better of him. He walked down the side of the house until he reached a conveniently placed shrub by the front corner, the vantage point affording him a view of both the entrance and the parked taxi without drawing attention to himself. A few minutes later, a man with shortish, tangled light brown hair came out of the house. He was tall, perhaps an inch or so taller than Kurt, lean but well-built and very good-looking, with chiselled, masculine features. Probably no older than twenty-five, he was dressed in tight, low-slung jeans and a fitted black jacket, and he carried himself with a hint of swagger that was somewhere between graceful and arrogant. Heat flooded Kurt's veins and something that felt like a hot poker twisted deep inside his chest. Frozen to the spot, he watched with narrowed eyes as the man climbed into the taxi, and then he waited until the taxi had driven through the gates and vanished from view. Shocked by his reaction, he hurried back down the driveway and into the garage. Leaning back against the nearest wall, he took several deep breaths until the pounding of his heart returned to a rate closer to its normal rhythm. It was absurd and totally irrational, but he couldn't deny that he was jealous of the stranger who had obviously shared Blaine's bed for the night. It wasn't a surprise that Blaine had brought someone home; he would have been more surprised if Blaine hadn't. For all he knew, it was a weekly occurrence. And yet, all he could think about was that he wished it had been him, even though he knew that could never happen. He still wasn't sure if Blaine liked him, and even if Blaine wasn't his employer, he was done with regrettable one-off encounters and men who were only interested in sex. He liked sex as much as the next guy, loved it in fact, but it wasn't enough anymore. He wanted someone to share his life with, not just his bed. He was determined that the next man he slept with would be someone who was like-minded and looking for the same things.

Taking another deep breath, he tried to reassure himself that he'd suffered nothing more than a brief moment of temporary insanity. He found Blaine incredibly attractive, so it was only natural that he'd have lustful thoughts about the man. After all, he was only human, he was a young man in his prime, and he had needs. Blaine could do what he liked, with whoever he liked, and it was no concern of his. He just needed to keep his little fantasies about Blaine in check, tucked away in a dark corner of his mind where they couldn't do any harm, and everything would be fine…

Confident that he'd regained his composure, he pried himself away from the wall, turned around to leave the garage, and walked straight into Blaine. He let out an undignified yelp of surprise and stumbled backwards from the impact with Blaine's solid, unyielding mass. "Whoa!" Blaine's hand shot out and grasped Kurt's upper arm in a firm grip, steadying him and allowing him to regain his balance. "Are you okay?" Blaine was standing far too close, his unshaven face and bed-rumpled hair filling Kurt's field of vision. Blaine's thumb was pressed against the bare skin just below where Kurt's t-shirt sleeve ended, and for just a moment his awareness narrowed to that tiny point of skin-on-skin contact. Startled, he pulled away, the movement causing Blaine to release his grip, his thumb sliding away in the slightest hint of a caress.

Kurt nodded, giving Blaine a self-deprecating smile in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "Sorry, Sir. My fault. I wasn't looking where I was going." With some space now between them, he was able to take in the rest of Blaine's appearance. Faded jeans sat low on his hips, accompanied by a pair of brown loafers. His upper half was clad in a burgundy polo shirt, the snug fit accentuating the musculature of his broad chest and small waist, the short sleeves clinging to his upper arms. Dressed down and ungroomed, Blaine was every bit the visual treat he was at his most polished in one of his expensive tailored suits. Perhaps even more so. Without a suit to hide his own physical shortcomings, Kurt couldn't help but feel woefully inadequate in comparison. He was taller than Blaine but that was where the comparison ended. He gestured towards the Mercedes. "I've been cleaning the car. If you'd like me to drive you somewhere, just give me a moment to change back into my suit." A self-conscious smile lifted the corners of Blaine's mouth, joined by a distracting flash of dimples. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd make me a cup of that fantastic coffee." Kurt blinked in astonishment, but he quickly recovered and smiled in return. "Of course, Sir. Just let me change first."

"Don't bother. You're fine as you are. In case you haven't noticed, I don't stand on ceremony around here." Blaine looked at him with an expression of mild exasperation for a moment, but then his features relaxed again. He gave Kurt a slow up and down glance. "You look good in a suit, Hummel, but I'm liking the casual look too."

Kurt again found himself caught off guard by the man's mercurial nature. Nonetheless, he was quietly pleased that Blaine didn't seem to find him unappealing, even without the benefit of a neat, tailored suit. He still would have liked to have gotten changed first, but he didn't want to risk spoiling Blaine's relaxed mood, even if the mousey haired moron was the reason behind it.

Deciding to play along, he raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on his carefully cocked hip. "That could be classed as harassment Mr Anderson."

Blaine's eyes widened, then he laughed, and Kurt experienced a little thrill of satisfaction. The 'mouse' might have had Blaine moaning with pleasure, but he might not have been up to the challenge of making Blaine laugh. Not that he cared either way, but it was an oddly reassuring thought all the same. Still smiling with amusement, Blaine gestured for Kurt to follow him. "Come on. I've already waited long enough for another taste. Besides, you wouldn't want me to go into caffeine withdrawal. Trust me, it's not a pretty sight." Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine's retreating form, but he couldn't stop a soft chuckle from escaping his lips as he followed his boss back into the house.


	4. Chapter 4

AN:

Thank you for all of your reviews so far. This chapter gives us a little glimpse into Kurts past, and present. I'm hoping to have the net chapter posted by Sunday. As always, reviews make me edit and type faster. I'm shameless, I know… 

Chapter 4

Kurt parked outside of his brother's house, collected his grocery bags, and walked in the front door, taking care his shoes were clean before crossing the threshold. "Hey, it's only me…" he announced cheerfully.

"In the kitchen," was the shouted reply. He tried not to cringe as he negotiated his way down the cluttered hallway and through to the kitchen at the rear of the house. A penchant for order and tidiness was just one of the many personality traits he and his step brother didn't have in common. As used to it as he was, every time he visited he still had to fight back the urge to roll up his sleeves and attempt to bring order to what seemed like borderline chaos. Regardless, it was a lovely two-storey renovated brown stone house. Located in a nice, quiet neighbourhood, it also had the benefit of a good school nearby for his six-year-old niece and eight-year-old nephew. He would be forever grateful to Henry Parker for his generosity in providing the means to extricate Finn, Ellie, and Joe from the run-down neighbourhood house they'd been living in up until six months ago – the same neighbourhood he and Finn had grown up in after his own mother had died.

Although he'd managed to leave the neighbourhood behind after finishing high school and getting his first full-time job, Finn hadn't been so fortunate. He'd sacrificed his own chance of escape, becoming a stay at home single dad, after his girlfriend, and the kids mum had died during the birth of Ellie.

After the second break-in at their old home in as many months, and with crime continuing to escalate in the area, Kurt had feared for their safety and grown increasingly anxious to relocate them to a nicer house in a better area. Finn had been struggling to find work at the time, making the difficult situation even more grim. Kurt had planned to use his savings and secure a second mortgage so he could buy them a house. Failing that, he'd considered selling his apartment and buying something big enough that they could share. It wouldn't have been ideal, but if it meant getting his family away from the neighbourhood he'd despised for as long as he could remember, it would have been worth the sacrifice.

It was around the same time that Henry had found out he was terminally ill. Not having any children or family of his own, he began making plans to divide up his vast neighbourhood amongst his friends and employees. Kurt hadn't wanted anything for himself, but when he voiced his worries about his brother and his young family, Henry – a man who had remained stubborn and intractable until his final breath – had insisted on giving them the money for a new home. Finn had refused at first, but Kurt managed to talk him around, urging him to put aside his pride and accept the gift they'd been offered.

After Henry's passing, Kurt had been stunned when the deceased man's solicitor had presented him with a cheque for a ridiculously large sum of money, telling him it was Henry's final gesture of gratitude to the young man who had given him comfort and companionship in his final days. Kurt hadn't wanted the money, but it had been Henry's wish that he have it, and he'd felt honour-bound to accept it with good grace. He'd used some of the money to pay off the mortgage on his apartment, but the majority remained untouched. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it, but he intended to use some of it to give his niece and a nephew the best possible start in life. He didn't want them to endure the hardships he and Finn had faced throughout their formative years. He himself had been a bitter, sullen and lonely teenager, silently struggling with coming to terms with his sexuality and keeping it safely hidden, while his boyish appearance, awkwardness and small size for his age had ensured he was on the receiving end of bullying and abuse from his peers. He'd hated his life and circumstances, resented the premature death of his mother years earlier, and had little respect for his downtrodden, emotionally absent father who had changed in front of his eyes. To escape his misery, he sought refuge in books and drawing, losing himself in fictional worlds and the application of pencil to paper. As a rule, he tried not to think about the past, but when he found himself looking back, he sometimes wondered how he'd survived those dark, desolate years.

Kurt found his brother standing at the kitchen table, sorting and folding an enormous pile of laundry. Finn stopped mid-fold and raised an eyebrow at him. "Hey bro, what's the occasion, you don't usually show up during the week?"

"Thought I'd stop in and say hey." Kurt put down his grocery bags and leaned in to give him a one armed hug. "How are you?"

"Good," he replied, smiling at Kurt as he finished folding a towel and added it the pile. "Just trying to catch up on this mountain of laundry…" he glanced down at Kurts shopping bags and narrowed his eyes. "What's in the bags?"

"Just a couple of things for the kids." Kurt gave Finn a sheepish shrug. "A new Lego set Joe wanted and a Barbie for Ellie. Oh, and I noticed you were almost out of twinkies, so I got you a box to keep your energy levels up to deal with the kids." Kurt sat down at the table and started folding laundry.

Finn sighed, shaking his head. "You spoil them, Kurt. All they have to do is show you something on tv or the internet and you go and buy it for them. They've got you wrapped around their little fingers. You know they think you're awesome. You don't have to buy them gifts all the time."

It was a familiar argument and one that Kurt always chose to ignore. He enjoyed his role of doting uncle. Since he was pretty sure he'd never have children of his own, he wanted to make the most of the time he had with Joe and Ellie before they reached their terrible teens and decided it wasn't cool to hang out with their uncle anymore. He was going to miss his Sunday afternoons building Lego with Joe and having tea parties with Ellie. "They're good kids. I like buying things for them."

"I know you do." Finn smiled, the wryness in his expression showing he'd already conceded defeat. "They'll be ecstatic when they get home and see what you got for them." He gave him a knowing look.

"So, tell me about this new boss of yours. You've been very secretive about him. What's he like? Is he cool?" Kurt only just managed not to cringe. 'Cool' didn't seem to be quite the right word to describe Blaine Anderson. Personally, he might have leaned more towards pain in his ass, and not in a fun way, although that seemed somewhat uncharitable when Blaine's only real offence was his highly distracting good looks. "He's nice," he agreed, deciding it was the easiest option. "He's... different. I'm not really sure what to make of him yet."

Remembering the appraising glance Blaine had given him on the weekend outside the garage, the warm touch of his hand, and his own absurd reaction to Blaine spending the night with the blond stranger, he felt a hint of warmth creep up his neck.

"Oh, no." Finn gripped a pair of balled up socks and stared at him.

"What?" Kurt asked in confusion.

"You're red, and you're eyes just went all stupid." Finn smirked and shook his head, throwing the socks towards Kurt.

"You like him, don't you?"

"No." Kurt caught the throw and exhaled hard. "All right... maybe. A bit." He sighed again. "He is very handsome," he admitted, this time not trying to hide his cringe of dismay.

Finn studied him, concern evident in his eyes. "Oh, Kurt..."

Kurt knew what his brother had to be thinking. He knew all too well his history of falling for the wrong type of men and probably thought he was repeating the same old pattern again. "I know, Finn," he agreed. "He's my boss. So nothing's going to happen. Even if he was interested at all, which I'm sure he's not, I'd never get involved with someone I work for. And definitely not with someone like Blaine Anderson."

He paused, thinking back to the coffee they'd shared after the awkward incident by the garage. They hadn't talked much and not about anything noteworthy or personal. But it had been nice all the same, just sitting with Blaine and having a cup of coffee together. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined that Blaine had almost seemed disappointed when he'd excused himself to go back to cleaning the car.

"He seems..." he began, then stopped again, shaking his head. "I don't know... he seems lonely. He lives in his huge house by himself. All he seems to do all the time is work." He decided not to mention Blaine's extracurricular activities from the week before.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Finn's eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown. "Looking like he does... successful... having all that money. It's what so many people dream about. Doesn't mean he's any happier than the rest of us though."

Kurt could only nod in agreement. His sudden and unexpected wealth hadn't made him any happier.

"You could always quit, you know," Finn suggested. Kurt shook his head, even though the thought had crossed his mind. "I've only been working for him for a week and a half. I can't just quit."

Finn shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Just tell him it's not working out. Make up some excuse. He'll find someone else to drive him around."

Kurt knew it would be the sensible thing to do. But the idea of quitting and not seeing Blaine again seemed worse than seeing him nearly every day and having to repress his attraction to the man. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was already growing attached to his new boss. "No. I couldn't do that. It wouldn't be professional."

Finn opened his mouth to respond, but Kurt cut him off with a warning glare. "Don't say it, Finn." He didn't need to be reminded that his professionalism was already well and truly on unstable ground.

A few moments passed before Finn spoke again, an indignant expression suddenly clouding his features. "What do you mean you're sure he's not interested? What's wrong with him? You're every bit as good as he is, and he'd be damn lucky to have someone like you. You can tell him I said so too."

Kurt spluttered on his own breathing and then he laughed. Blaine might be the master of his own domain, but if he ever ended up in the same room as Finn, he might just discover he'd met his match.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Firstly, apologies for the delay. My laptop was auto updating to the new windows and decided to throw a fit so it had to go to the computer doctors for a spanking! That being said, thank you so much for your reviews, they keep me posting! Here is Chapter 5, and as an apology I will post Chapter six in the next few days if you want it! Thank you for reading and reviewing!

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 **Chapter Five**

It was Friday morning of the following week and Kurt arrived at Blaine's to find the car he recognised as Quinns dark blue BMW coupe parked at the front of the house His curiosity piqued, Kurt parked his car and made his way into the kitchen via the back door as usual.

It had become his habit over the last couple of weeks to arrive early enough each morning to go inside and make a cup of coffee for Blaine before bringing the car around and driving him to the office. Blaine had become enamoured with Kurt's coffee making skills, and Kurt was more than happy to feed the man's addiction. The simple truth was that he enjoyed taking care of Blaine in whatever small ways he could, and he liked feeling that he was appreciated beyond his official duties as Blaine's paused uncertainly in the empty kitchen, unsure whether to make Blaine's coffee as usual or check in with him first.

Walking down the hallway to Blaine's office, he found it was also empty. He frowned and continued towards the front of the house, stopping at the staircase when he heard the sound of muffled voices coming from upstairs. The voices were punctuated by an anguished moan that had unmistakeably come from Blaine.  
Alarmed, Kurt called out, "Mister Anderson? Miss Fabray?"

He heard the click of heels on the hardwood floors above, and Quinn appeared at the top of the stairs a few moments later. She smiled down at him. "Kurt, hi. I was just about to call you. I'm glad you're here." The diminutive blonde woman descended the staircase, looking as efficient and composed as Kurt remembered from the previous times he'd met her. Quinn appeared to be around the same age as him, perhaps a couple of years older, with straight, shoulder-length blonde hair and a petite, slim figure. She was elegant and attractive, her sleek, tailored grey skirt and jacket understated and unfussy, but clearly expensive.

"Good morning, Quinn," he replied with a polite smile, remembering just in time that she had insisted he use her given name. "Is everything all right?" he asked when she came to a stop in front of him. Now that she was closer, he noted that she looked a little harried. "Blaine's sick," she replied with a sigh. "I don't think it's anything too serious. There's been a bout of flu going around the office. I had a mild case of it last week, and it looks like Blaine's come down with it. He's running a high fever, so I've called his doctor just to be safe. He should be here soon."

She paused and shook her head in obvious exasperation. "Of course, Blaine's convinced he's dying. He's such a baby. You'd think he'd never been sick before." She gave him a pleading look. "Can you go upstairs and keep an eye on him until Jeff gets here? I don't think I can handle any more of his moaning." She smiled ruefully. "At least, not this early in the morning."

Kurt stifled a smirk and nodded, not sure whether to feel sorrier for Blaine or Quinn. "Of course." Quinn gave him a smile that seemed equal parts gratitude and relief. "Thanks, Kurt. If he gets too annoying, just ignore him." She walked away, going down the hall and into Blaine's office, and Kurt proceeded upstairs and down to Blaine's bedroom, a small frown playing across his features at Quinns attitude to his sick boss.

Unsurprisingly, Blaine looked like death warmed up. He was curled up in a foetal position on the bed, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. His entire body was trembling, his face flushed and clammy with sweat, his dark hair a matted mess and plastered against his forehead. Moving to stand beside the bed, Kurt cleared his throat to announce his presence. "I'm sorry you're unwell, Sir. Is there anything I can get for you?" At the lack of response Kurt moved closer and spoke in a near whisper, "Blaine?" Blaine groaned and turned his head to look up at him with hazy eyes, his face a mask of misery. "I'm dying, Hummel." He groaned again, loudly, as if to emphasise the point. Kurt bit his bottom lip to stop the small smile threatening to spill over his face, despite his sympathy for his beleaguered boss. "Perhaps we should wait for the doctor before we jump to any hasty conclusions, Sir. It's probably just a case of the flu, like Quinn said." Blaine mumbled something under his breath, then groaned again for good measure. Kurt leaned closer, pushed Blaine's hair away from his forehead, and placed his palm against the flushed skin. "Hmm. You are quite hot."

"See?" Blaine somehow managed to sound victorious. "I'm dying." He grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his face as if attempting to smother himself, then seemed to think better of it and threw it away. With a pitiful whimper, he curled up into a ball again. Kurt took off his suit jacket, went into Blaine's bathroom, and soaked a cloth in cold water. Returning to Blaine, he perched on the edge of the bed and pressed the wet fabric alternately against Blaine's forehead and neck. Not sure what else to do, he repeated the process, then managed to coax Blaine into drinking some water. At one point, Blaine startled him by jumping from the bed and flying into the bathroom, where he promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Cringing in sympathy, Kurt helped Blaine up from the floor and back into bed.

It was about fifteen minutes later when Quinn entered the room, followed by a thin man of average height, probably in his mid-thirties like Blaine, with short blonde hair and pointed, unwelcoming features. Kurt moved out of the way as the man walked over to the bed and opened his black doctor's bag. "All right, Blaine. Let's take a look at you." The doctor stopped and seemed to finally register Kurt's presence. A scowl appeared on his face. "Who the hell are you?" Quinn stepped forward. "Jeff, this is Kurt... Kurt Hummel. He's Blaine's new chauffeur." She narrowed her eyes at the man. "Be nice." She turned to Kurt. "Kurt, this is Jeff Sterling." The man huffed. "Doctor Jeff Sterling, thank you." Kurt gave the man a polite smile. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor Sterling." Jeff nodded curtly, but Blaine interrupted with a belaboured groan before he said anything. "Excuse me, man dying over here." Jeff made a derisive noise. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. And they say Doctors make the worst patients." He got some equipment from his bag and turned his attention to Blaine. "We'll give you some privacy." Kurt moved to the door and followed Quinn out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them.

Turning to face him, Quinn gave him an apologetic smile. "Don't mind Jeff, he's always like that. He's a brilliant doctor, but his bedside manner leaves something to be desired." "He seems like quite a character," Kurt agreed, trying to be diplomatic. Quinn laughed, shaking her head. "That's one way of describing him, he used to be so hyperactive actually… but he changed a while back..." She became serious again. "Kurt..." she began, suddenly looking at him with uncertainty in her dark eyes. "I know it's an imposition, but Blaine's here on his own and he's probably going to be out of action for at least a few days. You've seen what he's like when he's sick. So I was just wondering if..." Kurt didn't hesitate. "Don't worry, I'll look after him." Relief passed over Quinn's face, but then she gave him a worried frown. "You're sure you don't mind? He can be a bit of a handful." The wryness in her expression suggested she knew exactly how much of an understatement that really was. Kurt smiled. "I'll manage." Quinn took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you. I just don't like him being here on his own when he's not well. And Blaine really likes you, so..." Kurt felt his eyebrows shoot upwards. "He does?" The words had blurted from his mouth before he could stop himself. He shook his head in apology. "Sorry, it's just that..." He stopped and bit down on his lower lip, not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding inappropriate.

Quinn sighed, the sympathy in her eyes suggesting that she understood his predicament. "I know he can be, well... difficult. He gets so buried in his work that he forgets to pay attention to the people around him. Try not to take it personally. He's told me he's very impressed with you. He likes having you around." "Um..." Kurt knew it was ridiculous to feel so pleased just from hearing his employer thought well of him. "That's nice to hear." He smiled self-consciously. "Thanks for telling me, Quinn." Blaine's bedroom door opened and Jeff peered out at them. "He'll live. Just a nasty case of the flu." Kurt followed Quinn back into the room, and Blaine greeted their return with a despondent moan. Kurt moved to stand beside the bed again, where Blaine was now huddled under the bed covers and shivering. If anything, he looked even worse than before, and Kurt couldn't help feeling sympathy for him.

"So which one of you is playing nursemaid?" Jeff asked as he packed up his bag. Kurt looked up. "Uh... that would be me." Jeff smirked. "My condolences, dude."  
"What?" Blaine lifted his head and glared at them. "No. Hummel is my chauffeur, not my damn nurse. Go home, Hummel. I'll be fine."  
"You told me you were dying ten minutes ago," Kurt pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Blaine slumped his head back onto the pillows and moaned again. "Yeah, well, Jeff says I'm not. I suppose I'll have to take his word for it." Kurt could empathise with Blaine not wanting to be seen as weak and pitiful in front of an employee, but it was a bit too late to be worried about that. Besides, there was no way he was going to leave Blaine alone while he wasn't well. "I'm staying until you're better, Sir. End of discussion." Quinn flashed him a grateful smile.

"He's running a high fever, so you're going to need to keep an eye on that." Jeff handed Kurt a business card and pointed to where he'd left a digital thermometer and small packet of Tylenol on the bedside table. "If it gets any higher or his symptoms get worse, give me a call. Other than that it's just the standard drill. Make sure he gets plenty of fluids, but no tea, coffee or alcohol. Some soup once his stomach can handle it." He tore off a sheet from a prescription pad and handed it over. "I've prescribed a course of antivirals, he should start on those right away. Tylenol to help with the fever, and the usual over the counter stuff to help relieve the other symptoms." Quinn reached out and took the prescription slip from Kurt. "I'll go to the pharmacy and get some supplies." Jeff patted Blaine's shoulder. "Hope you feel better soon, Blaine. And for God's sake, take it easy and don't try to go back to work until you've recovered. The world of high finance will struggle along without you for a few days." He looked at Kurt. "Make sure he rests. He's in no condition to put up much of a fight, but tie him down if you have to."

"Hey!" Blaine protested, scowling up at grinned at Jeff. "No problem. There's some rope in the garage." Jeff barked out a laugh while Blaine gave Kurt a death-glare, which might have been more effective if he didn't look quite so pitiable. "Try it, Hummel, and you're fired," he muttered. Quinn shook her head with obvious amusement. She turned to Jeff and smiled. "Thanks for coming, Jeff. I'll walk out with you." She spared Kurt a sympathetic look. "I won't be long, Kurt."  
Jeff slapped Kurt on the back on his way out of the room. "Good luck. You're going to need it."

Kurt watched as the pair left the room and headed downstairs. Turning his attention back to Blaine, who was looking at him with a hint of what almost seemed like wariness, he tried to give the man a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Sir. You'll be back on your feet in no time." Noticing the water bottle on the bedside table was empty, he put down Jeff's card and picked it up. "I'll get you some more water. Back in a minute." On his way down to the kitchen, he did a quick reconnaissance of the other upstairs rooms, finding a room just down from Blaine's that appeared to be set up as a guest bedroom. Like most of the house, it was sparsely furnished, but it had a large, neatly made bed, a wardrobe, and its own bathroom, which was all he would need. When Quinn returned, he'd make a quick trip back to his apartment and pack a bag with clothes and toiletries to last him for the next few days. He made a mental note to call Finn and let him know he wouldn't be visiting on Sunday as usual.

Despite Blaine's dramatics, Kurt hated to see the man poorly and suffering, even when it was something as innocuous for a man of Blaine's age and vitality as a case of the flu. Suspecting his patience was going to be stretched to the limit over the next few days, he just hoped they didn't end up trying to throttle each other before Blaine recovered.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: As promised, here is Chapter Six, thank you for sticking with me, and remember… reviews are love… and so are cookies… 

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Chapter Six

The sky was clear and blue, the sun wonderfully warm against his bare skin. Safe in the knowledge that his pale complexion was protected by a liberal head-to-toe coating of SPF 100, Kurt rolled over onto his back and folded his arms behind his head, sighing with contentment. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more carefree and happy.

He'd just begun to drift into a light doze when he heard his name being called from the shoreline. Opening his eyes, he propped himself up on his elbows and focused his gaze on the toned, dark-haired figure emerging from the sparkling blue water. He watched, transfixed, admiring the perfect, masculine physique with its lean, contoured muscles and smooth, tanned skin that glistened so appealingly in the golden sunlight.

A sliver of blue fabric clung low to the man's hips, leaving little to the imagination and affording only the most minimal amount of modesty. Not that the man had a modest bone in his body, regardless of the fact that they were on their own stretch of secluded beach and completely alone. Kurt's slightly more discrete red swimming trunks tightened against the sudden strain.

Smiling widely and exuding confidence, the man strode out of the water and across the sand until he was standing at the foot of their beach towels and looming over Kurt. Giving Kurt an appraising up and down stare of his own, the glint of hunger in the man's gold flecked eyes suggested that he was pleased with what he found laid out before him.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked in a teasing drawl. Distracted by the droplets of water trailing from the man's well-defined chest and down his sculptured abdomen, Kurt swallowed convulsively. "Yeah..."

The man laughed and threw himself down on top of Kurt, bringing their mouths together in a filthy kiss. Insistent hardness pressed against Kurt's own. "Ugh," he protested when they finally pulled apart, both of them a little out of breath. "You're all wet. And you taste salty."  
The man laughed again, his expressive amber eyes alight with mischief. He ran a hand through his wet curls, pushing them back and away from his eyes. That same hand moved to cradle Kurt's face and lightly caressed his cheek, then slid downwards, tracing a teasing path down Kurt's chest and abdomen, finally sliding eager fingers beneath the waistband of his trunks. A shiver of anticipation raced along Kurt's spine. With a devilish grin, the man yanked off Kurt's trunks in a swift, well-practised movement, tossing them away before doing the same with his own.

Kurt moaned as his mouth was captured again, the press of the other man's crotch against his own so much better without restrictive fabric between their bodies. He managed to roll them over so that he was on top, and then he pulled back, grinning down at the other man. "If you get sand in my ass, I'm not having sex with you for the rest of the trip."

"You'd never last." The man's handsome, smiling face was undeniably smug. "You're worse than I am. Besides, we both know you can't get enough of me." Kurt only just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Still, in all fairness he couldn't argue with that and it seemed like a pointless waste of effort to try. Instead, he pressed himself down against that wet, firm body and gave a not-so-subtle thrust of his hips. The man moaned in obvious approval, his arms wrapping around Kurt as they kissed a gasp of pleasure, Kurt murmured the man's name. _"Blaine..."_

Kurt woke with a jolt and jumped up from his chair, the book he'd been reading falling to the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Disoriented, he looked around the dimly-lit room, finally focusing on where Blaine was curled up on the opposite side of the bed and still sleeping fell back into the chair and retrieved his book, unnerved by the vivid dream. His crotch was tight and his skin felt hot, as if he really had been lounging in the sun in some far-off tropical paradise. He wondered where that little fantasy had come from. He hated beaches with all the dirty sand that invariably got everywhere you didn't want it be, and he'd always been somewhat uncomfortable in close proximity to large expanses of water. Puzzling though it was, the setting seemed rather less significant than the person he'd been sharing it with. Blaine. He ran an unsteady hand over his face and reached to the bedside table for a bottle of water. Fumbling with the top, he gulped half of it down, then forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths. A glance at Blaine's bedside clock reassured him that he'd only drifted off for fifteen minutes or so. He'd need to wake Blaine again soon and give him another dose of medication and painkillers.

It had been a long thirty-six hours as he'd sat vigil at Blaine's bedside, only taking short breaks when necessary to attend to his own needs. He knew he was being somewhat paranoid and over-protective, but Blaine's temperature had remained worryingly high and he'd had anxious thoughts of rushing Blaine to the ER if it spiked any higher. Blaine had slept restlessly for most of the time, and even when conscious he hadn't been particularly lucid. Despite his histrionics the previous morning, he'd been pliant enough under Kurt's ministrations, clearly too unwell to resist or protest beyond the occasional feeble groan. More surprising was that each time he woke up, he seemed relieved to find that Kurt was still there. "Kuh..urrt..." Kurt looked up from where he'd been staring at the bottle clutched in his hands. Somewhere along the line during his state of delirium, Blaine had started using Kurt's given name instead of his surname. And each time Kurt heard his name spoken in Blaine's rich voice, his stomach did a strange little lurch and a ridiculous surge of warmth bloomed in his chest.

Focusing on Blaine's face, he found a pair of bleary, red-tinged eyes peering at him. Blaine made a croaking sound, then swallowed and cringed. "You're still here," he muttered hoarsely. "Of course, Sir." Kurt put the bottle of water aside and shifted closer. He placed his hand against Blaine's forehead and was relieved to find that it didn't feel quite so hot. Reaching for the thermometer just to be sure, he gave Blaine a gentle smile. "How are you feeling?" Blaine groaned. "Like hell. Everything hurts. My throat and head are killing me." Kurt nodded in sympathy. He took Blaine's temperature, confirming that it had dropped almost two degrees, then filled a glass with water and handed it to Blaine along with his medication. "Your temperature's gone down. That's a good sign." Blaine pulled himself upright with obvious effort, then took the tablets and drained the glass, grimacing each time he swallowed. He passed the glass back to Kurt and scrubbed an unsteady hand over his unshaven face. "I must look even worse than I feel."

"Well, I have to admit you've looked better." Kurt smiled again and was pleased when Blaine managed a weak smile of his own.

"What time is it?" Blaine asked, still looking at him.

"Almost nine-thirty," Kurt replied. "Saturday night," he added when Blaine frowned and seemed to be struggling to put the time into context. "Do you feel like something to eat? How about some soup and toast?" He gave a slight chuckle as he recalled the numerous bags he'd helped Quinn carry in and unpack the day before. "I think Quinn bought enough food to last you for at least a month." Blaine managed a weak chuckle of his own, then coughed several times. He cleared his throat and nodded.

"Yeah. I'm kind of hungry. Some soup sounds good." He shuffled over to the other side of the bed and started trying to untangle himself. "I need a shower," he muttered. Kurt was out of his chair and at Blaine's side in an instant, wrapping an arm around the other man's waist as he climbed unsteadily to his feet and nearly toppled over. "Easy, Sir. Take your time." He had to admit that Blaine did kind of stink a bit, so a shower seemed like a good idea. He managed to get Blaine hauled into the en-suite bathroom and sitting on the toilet seat to regain his strength, then turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature so it was warm but not too hot. He turned to look at Blaine. "Will you be able to manage all right?" Blaine rose cautiously to his feet and started to peel off his t-shirt. "I think so…" Catching a glimpse of Blaine's bare torso, Kurt stepped away from the shower and averted his eyes.

They were both adult men of course, but it felt wrong to be ogling his employer when his feelings for the man were so complicated and not merely of a professional, platonic nature. Blaine was sick and it would be unforgivable to take advantage of the situation to satisfy his own lustful curiosity, even if Blaine was none the wiser. At the same time, he couldn't deny being intrigued about whether the reality measured up to his fantasies, especially with the latest one still so fresh in his mind. He cleared his throat and moved to the doorway. "I'll get you some clean clothes."

"Thanks," he heard Blaine mutter in reply. Kurt stood there awkwardly, his gaze fixed on the tiled flooring until he was satisfied that Blaine was situated in the shower. Then he made a hasty retreat to Blaine's dressing room and retrieved clean underwear, socks, tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt. Summoning his resolve, he took the bundle of clothing back into the bathroom, placed it on the side of the basin counter closest to the shower and quickly retreated again, keeping his back to the shower and its occupant the entire time. Hoping that Blaine could get himself washed, dried and dressed without assistance, he closed the bathroom door behind him.  
After retrieving a set of clean sheets from the linen cupboard in the hallway, he stripped and remade the bed. Then, taking a deep breath, he left the bedroom and went downstairs. He returned a short while later with a tray containing chicken soup and toast for two, relieved to find that Blaine was dressed and back in bed, albeit looking exhausted from the effort. Blaine's hair was damp and a riot of curls shooting out in all directions, and he was still unshaven, but at least he was clean.

"Does that feel a bit better?"Blaine gave him a weary nod. "Yeah. Thank you."Kurt got Blaine settled with the tray, silently bemoaning the lack of coffee to accompany their late dinner. He would have dearly loved a cup, but he'd decided the coffee machine would be off limits until Blaine could share it with him again. It seemed only fair. In the meantime, he'd been trying valiantly to make do with strong black tea. He did a quick tidy up in the bathroom, dealing with Blaine's dirty clothes and wet towels. Then he returned to Blaine's bedside and started on his own meal.

They ate in companionable silence, and Blaine managed to eat most of his food, although he started to lag as he reached the last couple of mouthfuls of his soup. Kurt took the tray from Blaine's lap when he was done, putting it aside on the floor with his own dishes. He checked Blaine's temperature again just to be safe. "Anything else I can get you?" Blaine shook his head, sliding back down under the bed covers and pulling them up around his shoulders. He was shivering again. "Hummel..." he began, then paused with a slight frown. "Kurt." He paused again. "Thank you. For doing all of this. For staying and taking care of me. I want you to know I appreciate it." The words obviously didn't come easily to Blaine, but he sounded sincere.

Being sick had stripped the man of his usual defences, taking away the mask of the aloof, hard-nosed businessman and revealing vulnerability and uncertainty beneath. Kurt suspected that few people got to see this side of Blaine. He felt strangely privileged to be one of them. Taking his seat again, he gave Blaine a self-deprecating smile. "Think nothing of it, Sir. It's my pleasure. All part of the friendly service."

Blaine breathed out a sigh, then coughed and grimaced as he rubbed at his chest as he spoke in a quiet, almost unsure voice. "Call me Blaine. Please." He swallowed and coughed again. "You wouldn't deny the wish of a dying man, would you?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're not dying, Sir."

"Please?" Blaine repeated, staring at him with intent, pleading gold eyes.

Kurt wondered when pleasing Blaine had become more important than his own tenuous sense of self-preservation. He'd known the man for just three weeks and had already grown dangerously fond of him. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he was already half in love with Blaine, despite his best efforts to safeguard his foolish heart.

He'd been in love before – several times in fact – and it seemed to be his curse that he fell hard and too fast. With Blaine, the nebulous feelings were different in a way he couldn't begin to fathom or explain. The only thing he knew was that they were frighteningly intense. He sighed, shaking his head in defeat. "All right. Just until you're better." After a pause, he added, "Blaine."

"There. Was that really so difficult?" Blaine looked momentarily triumphant. Then, still watching him, he frowned. "You look tired. You should get some rest."  
Kurt wanted to protest, but he'd been up for the best part of two days straight and the idea of sliding into the comfortable bed in Blaine's guest room was undeniably appealing. Besides, Blaine looked like he was about to drop off again and the worst of his fever had passed. There was no reason to linger at Blaine's bedside, except for the fact that he wanted to. Hiding his reluctance, he climbed to his feet and picked up the tray with their dinner dishes. "I'll check on you later. Just call out if you need anything." He only just managed not to add 'Sir' at the end of the sentence.

Blaine murmured his agreement and curled up on his side. "Night, Kurt."

Kurt smiled softly down at him, watching as his eyes drifted closed. "Goodnight, Blaine."


End file.
